Van Persie

11/05/1949 – 01:00 Local Time

The cool temperature of a Hawaiian night thoroughly surprised the Dutchman as he steadily paced towards the dorm building of the Sardegna Empire. It was simply breathtaking. Van Persie was in awe of the sheer beauty of their dorm house. It was a copy of the Castello del Valentino which was one of the many luxurious residences of the Royal House of Savoy.

"Man, the Italians really do know their style," Van Persie remarked. Of course, he knew all about Italian culture and even could speak Italian at a decent level! All thanks due to his girlfriend, Aurora. However, a bolt of melancholy struck him down as his mind raced through the thoughts of Aurora. How great it was to spend time with her and how he really should've proposed to her when he still had the time. She was and will always be the love of his life to Van Persie. However, that train of thought was suddenly shattered as the front door was opened. Van Persie stepped backwards a bit and once the door fully opened, it revealed Vittorio Veneto. Regal and elegant as ever.

"Ah, so you've taken me up on my offer?" She says slyly.

"But what exactly is your offer?" The Dutchman replies with a confused smile.

"Better come inside, if the others see you here at this time of hour, who knows what rumours will spread~" She replied in a teasing tone which truly caught Van Persie off guard.

Van Persie was mesmerised by the interior décor. Grand and spacious rooms with numerous pieces of priceless artwork dotted around their gigantic house. The hand-chiselled marble floor and luxurious items of furniture complemented the atmosphere along the insane chandeliers across the house.

"Uh, Vittorio Veneto, are there any spare rooms perhaps I could move into?" Van Persie asked in a joking manner.

"Hahaha," she responded. "We don't know each other that well yet. If you take me on a few dates, then I'll consider it~"

"Ok wow. That direct huh? So, what is this? A one-night stand?"

"No, don't be so silly. This is just a… private dinner, let's say. A handsome and mysterious pilot appears with a jet from the future and makes a huge scene. So, tell me about yourself," she said, leading him to the dinner table. Instead of a grand and long table, it was a simple, compact square with a white tablecloth with cutlery and glasses already set. Van Persie sat himself down on the cosy wooden chair, facing opposite a smiling Vittorio Veneto. The dinner was already ready: a big pot of ossobuco and a bottle of fine red wine from Tuscany.

000

The two feasted into the meal. The Dutchman was amazed at Vittorio Veneto's culinary skills. It was simply mouth-wateringly great. He raised his napkin and wiped his mouth, before taking a sip of red wine. Van Persie shot Vittorio Veneto a look of "thank you". Meanwhile, Vittorio Veneto was simply trying her best to stop snickering whilst she quietly observed Van Persie.

"You enjoying yourself there?" She asked, almost breaking into laughter.

"Wow, your cooking is so good! I love it," Van Persie responded, completely oblivious to Vittorio Veneto's antics.

"Thank you," she said sincerely with a smile. "Ok, Jack," she said, leaning forward. "What is your story?"

"I'm just a kid from Amsterdam, transferred to the USAF and I was KIA when we went to war against another nation. Then, I woke up here and caused a mess. I'm sure you've heard the scuttlebutt," Van Persie replied.

"Really huh, that shallow? Girls don't like that~" she replied.

"I mean yeah, that's it! My life at home wasn't very special,"

"What about your girlfriend at home?" She asked. Van Persie leaned back in surprise.

"Come on, there was a picture of her in your cockpit, in your pockets, in your…"

"You really went through my stuff? Van Persie interrupted.

"Well, I had to. I along with a few others supervised the radiation cleanup. We had to process your things but don't worry. That secret is safe with us,"

"And that makes me feel so much better," Van Persie said, sarcastically. "Well, I made one mistake, and I've been regretting that ever since. I really should've proposed to her when I had the chance,"

"I'm sorry Jack. But maybe, if you look on the bright side, if you manage to get back home, then you've got your chance," she said in a hopeful manner.

"She…uh… she passed away. She was in an accident and was killed instantly. Hit by a drunk driver," Van Persie said. It took all of his strength to say those three sentences and immediately, he reached for his napkin and wiped some of the tears away. "I'm sorry please excuse me," as Van Persie exited the dining room and walked away to the bathroom.

000

Vittorio Veneto

Vittorio Veneto sat in silence as a broken Van Persie excused himself. Empathy and sorrow flooded through her body as she wiped a few tears too.

"Scusa mi," (I'm sorry) she quietly whispered. She quickly left the table, trailing Van Persie to the bathroom. Opening the door to the men's, she walked inside and discovered Van Persie, sitting on the floor against the wall, with his hands covering his face and mouth as he tries to sob quietly. She joined him on the floor and wrapped her warm, loving embrace around the distraught pilot. She pulled him closer and rested his head on her shoulder. Slowly, Van Persie dropped his guard and lowered his hands.

"Sorry that you have to see me like this, it's just been ever since she passed,"

"Why are you apologizing? It's going to be ok,"

"It's just been so bad without her and it's even worse now. I'm the outsider, who do I have here to help me through my problems? I've got to put those away to focus on the war,"

"Don't be ridiculous," Vittorio Veneto said. "I'm here for you, Belfast is, and more will follow. It's ok to have these feelings, Jack. But you must let go of the past. It's like an anchor, weighing you down to the depths of depravity and melancholy,"

"I know, it's just…" Van Persie said, but he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Sleep on it, Jack. It's been a long day for you. I'll accompany you a spare here and tuck you into bed."

Vittorio Veneto closed the door behind her as the pair entered one of the spare bedrooms in the dorm house. Firstly, Van Persie undid and hung his beige traveller's jacket in a closet and proceeded to take off most of his clothes while Vittorio Veneto was preparing the bed. After about two minutes, Van Persie finally threw the cool sheets over his body as it slowly sank into the unbelievably soft mattress and duvet.

"Buonanotte caro," (goodnight dear) she warmly whispered, before giving him a gentle and comforting kiss. She then quietly slithered away, wishing Van Persie the best.

000

Van Persie

12/05/1949 – 06:00 Local Time

Van Persie slowly awoke to his surroundings after a short, yet the best quality of sleep he had experienced in recent memory. It was a strange feeling to be so well-rested with only a few hours of sleep. Van Persie took a while to analyse last night's events. A strange yet heartfelt rollercoaster. Van Persie never felt that weak, to collapse in front of a stranger yet simultaneously, he felt comfortable with Vittorio Veneto. However, her words were right. Things needed to change to be a better pilot as Van Persie dwelling on the past will eventually consume him. To be the best for Azur Lane, he needed to cut the chains weighing him down. Despite the events earlier this early morning, Van Persie felt optimal. Nevertheless, he showered, dressed up and left the dorm house, arriving back at his apartment. The apartment complex was also situated within the enormous Azur Lane military base. It was built some distance away from the military facilities and was in an opposite direction from the dorm buildings of the respective coalition nations to prevent incidents. Even though, these incidents happened regularly thanks to a certain admiral. The apartment complex looked like a basic and standard hastily created structure, with a few leisure areas such as a gym. Firstly, Van Persie checked his mailbox as Belfast explained that various people around the military base mainly use telephones and mail to communicate. To Van Persie's surprise, there was a handful of mail. Flicking through, he saw the Research & Development department's letter was marked with "CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET – URGENT." Another important letter was from the Department of Maintenance, requesting assistance. It was only right for Van Persie to visit R&D before anything else.

Showing his ID and access level, he was let through the door by the military police, before being escorted to the "beyond classified" level. It was built deep below the surface and surrounded by a heavy solid granite case, making it almost impervious to breaking through. The elevator landed and out stepped Van Persie with the escort. The layout was simple with a massive main testing room, mainly used for researching and developing larger objects such as aircraft, weapon systems, and even early missiles. To the left and right sides of the entrance led corridors that led to smaller experimental rooms, tailored for specific areas of interest such as code-breaking. What seemed like the lead scientist approached the pilot. He constantly wore a look of seriousness and horror. As the Dutchman looked closer, he instantly recognized the face.

"Good morning lieutenant," he began with a heavy and almost deafly tone. "I'm…"

"J. Robert Oppenheimer… father of the nuclear bomb…" Van Persie eagerly interrupted. The pilot was awe-struck. He couldn't believe that freaking J. Robert Oppenheimer was standing right in front of him. Whereas he was slightly confused.

"Well, the Manhattan Project is still classified," he chuckled. "But the first prototype is still not ready yet. We've encountered some difficulties. Anyway, let's not get sidetracked. Welcome to Skunk Works. Greatest minds on the planet, handpicked to work and develop technology to give humanity the upper hand. Follow me, lieutenant," Oppenheimer spoke and walked to a large desk. "We've been researching these wisdom cubes for years now and your presence has accelerated some areas of interest. Namely, the aircraft from your world," he said.

"Right yeah. One of your scientists told me that they summoned the F-14 through some new breakthrough in wisdom cube understanding. And that they want me to collect data," the pilot responded.

"Precisely lieutenant. The more data you collect, the more advanced aircraft we can pull from your world into this one. Secondly, lieutenant. Do you remember after the clean-up incident with the CBRN teams?"

"Yes sir," the pilot responded

"Well, we are and have been studying these murky green wisdom cubes since they contain an unwieldy large amount of energy and radiation. We still need to run tests as this can become a revolutionary breakthrough in physics," he said. The word "radiation" pierced the pilot's mind as a film reel played of the catastrophe. His left leg gave way and dropped but he stabilized himself, causing Oppenheimer to worry.

"Are you ok lieutenant?"

"Yeah, it's just, bad memories. But don't worry, I'm ok," Van Persie reassured. Regaining composure. The pilot realized and asked. "Wait what? Don't tell me you're going to use it on the ladies?"

"Oh god no. No, of course not. We still need to figure out how to proceed but I'll let you know instantly if there are any breakthroughs. Please take care of yourself, the future of the human race quite literally depends on you," Oppenheimer finished.

"Thank you, and yes, I'll try my best," the pilot responded. As Van Persie stepped outside and the sun was beginning to shine more brightly. He glanced around and saw a large convoy slowly driving through the main road of the military compound, towards the main building. Van Persie correctly guessed it was the return of Commander King and Vice Commander Overmars. Deciding it was better to continue with his business, Van Persie headed for the cafeteria to collect some bread for his rudimentary breakfast, before going to the Department of Maintenance.

000

Stuffing the small pieces of bread and MRE crackers into his mouth, Van Persie casually strolled over to the large warehouses and dry docks. As he was walking, a voice interrupted him.

"Ahem, Master," none other than Belfast answered. The Dutchman turned around to meet his maid. She remained composed but Van Persie knew he was in trouble. Her fiery eyes scrutinized Van Persie.

"Yes, Belfast?" He answered.

"Plain bread and MRE crackers for breakfast?"

"Yes Belfast," he said.

"How many hours did you sleep, Master?" Belfast angrily asked.

"A few, I don't know. 3 or 4 hours?"

"Master with all due respect, this is an extremely unhealthy way to live. How long have you lived like this?" Belfast asked.

"Well, if you're in a rapid reaction airwing like I was, you had to live like this. Back at base, we'd have MRES stacked to the ceiling," Van Persie reasoned.

"It is a duty to correct her master's behaviour. Follow me, Master," Belfast instructed. Her tone honestly scared the combat veteran and thus, he immediately gave up all resistance to Belfast. The dutiful maid guided him back to his apartment and forced him to go back to sleep. It only took a few seconds for the pilot to drift away, only to be re-woken again by Belfast hours later with a real continental breakfast. All handmade by Belfast and the maid corps. It was a weird, yet surprisingly good feeling Van Persie had when we had a nice and fresh breakfast when on duty. He realized how lucky he was to have Belfast as his personal maid.

000

Refreshing for duty again, he went straight to the commander's office and upon entering, Van Persie immediately felt strange. Firstly, the pilot was late as the room was filled with representatives of each faction respectively. As he looked around, Vittorio Veneto shot him a smile and he returned the favour. Next, and the more pressing issue was that there was a third man. King and Overmars were there too but how was this mystery man? King stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Good morning, all. Fresh reports from the Central Intelligence Agency and the Pentagon indicate that there will be a very low chance of Siren offensive operations for the next month. Our last bombing raid heavily blunted some of their best fleets and thus will need time to rebuild. High command has briefed us, explicitly stating to presume a defensive posture until other Azur Lane elements finish clearing up Siren DRGs (Deep Recon Groups) who have been targeting our supply routes," King said. Van Persie was honestly shocked. Was Commander King actually somewhat competent? Van Persie resumed his focus on King and his briefing. It was the usual blabber about how important cooperation is, and other not-so-interesting items of discussion. However, Van Persie noticed occasionally noticed some peculiar behaviour from King and the mystery man. Without fail, as soon as King lost track of what he was saying, the mystery man leaned in and whispered into his ear and the commander would resume speaking. Overmars' reaction was quite noticeable, with him shaking his head in disapproval whilst looking down. The pilot looked around and the faction representatives also looked in surprise. "I have only one order and two standing messages, High command has authorized the Royal Navy's Spring Bal and her Majesty Queen Elizabeth has already begun planning. Secondly," he began as the man stepped forward. "This is my personal friend, Gregory Berkley," he finished. Berkely stepped forward. Van Persie had never laid eyes on such a bizarre figure in his life before. He was of average height and wore basic clothes. But he had extraordinarily dishevelled and defined facial hair. His beard extended 15 centimetres down, all the way to his chest! His hair was forcibly pressed downwards and like his beard, was extremely long yet well-kept together. It was as almost if his hair and beard were connected. His extremely dark hair completely covered his ears, and his large moustache definitely grew into his beard. However, the most unnerving aspect was his eyes. His eyes were like black holes. They had the power to set you into a trance by simply staring into his eyes. It was as if Berkely could simply consume your soul by just him looking into you. His eyes were haunting, mystic, and somehow had the ability to draw you in. It was extremely unsettling. Van Persie immediately felt a strange, even supernatural energy radiating from him.

"Good morning, I will only be staying here for a short while," the man spoke. His voice and tone were haunting as well. Van Persie once again looked around the room and the reactions spoke for themselves. Amagi remained neutral while Bismarck gripped her staff tighter. Hood tried to maintain her smile, but the pilot knew that she was drawn to the man. Vittorio Veneto and Richelieu scrutinized the man but also tried their best to hide their reactions as soon as the room discovered how awful Berkely smelled. Enterprise meanwhile did not react. She maintained her "ice queen" persona and Van Persie could not discern any reaction. However, Overmars was staring into Berkely with murderous intent.

"Secondly, Van Persie," King said.

"Standing by for tasking, sir!" Van Persie said.

"Report back to me after your training exercise for debriefing and afterwards, you're on patrol duty as our only quick reaction force. Understood?" King ordered.

"Crystal, sir," the pilot responded and saluted.

"Good man," King commented before the crowd left the room. Van Persie was indeed pleasantly surprised that King began to assume the role of a commander but, Van Persie grew extremely suspicious of who that man was. There was something off about him and he prayed that the others caught on. As the faction representatives and Van Persie walked outside to begin their day, everyone started to talk about the strange Berkely.

"Hey Enterprise, what do you think about Berkely?" Van Persie asked.

"My opinion is irrelevant. We have a mission to defeat the enemy," Enterprise coldly responds and walks off. Van Persie remains still with his mouth slightly agape.

"Looks like someone got rejected by Enterprise~," a familiar voice said behind him. It was Vittorio Veneto.

"Well, I just wasn't expecting that reaction," he responded.

"Don't worry, if you're interested in her. I'll try to help you out," she said with a smirk. Van Persie chuckled a bit.

"Vittorio. Thank you,"

"Of course, that's what friends are for," she said, giving the pilot a much-needed hug.